Bombay Sapphire
by CasperGirl18
Summary: Gin: A versatile alcohol with a slightly bitter taste but an ultra smooth texture; the only substance that makes it impossible to feel.
1. Shepard's

A/N: Little plot bunny that popped into my mind in December but I just got around to writing it. I have many ideas for where this can go but as for now it is all up in the air. Special thanks to **Gryffindor'sSlytherinPrincess** for being my makeshift beta (even if I don't take all of her suggestions) and bestest best friend! Please review, without criticism and advice nothing gets accomplished...

* * *

I look around the busy pub for an empty table so that I can drink this feeling away once again. Today has been one of those days where the pain has ebbed from hardly there to barely manageable, making me want to drown myself in under priced liquor in order to forget. So tonight I find myself at Shepard's, a small muggle pub, where I can drink into oblivion. The sensible, logical, self-appreciating part of me hated this; the emotional, easily distracted, self-loathing part, however, craved it. The two sides battled frequently but the self-loathing side almost always won and I have started to notice. In the past few months, these liaison's have been steadily increasing from once a week to four or five. I'm starting to think this is the only reason I'm still living to be honest, but I guess it's worth it because I hate this. I hate feeling like I am being split at the middle or that a giant hole is being carved into my chest. This feeling makes me want to curl up into a ball and die.

Success! I see a free table in the corner by the rarely used backdoor. The small wooden table and chairs are barely lit and no one seems to even notice they exist. _'Perfect' _I think as I head for the table, bumping into people_. _I brush by someone and they grab my shoulder. _Damn._

"Hermione?" The female's voice is vaguely familiar and I can tell she isn't going to be an easily fooled.

"Who? I'm sor-" I start to say, turning to face my challenge, but my words catch in my throat as I stare into the eyes of Ginerva Weasley, clinging to some muggle.

"It is you! Oh, this is wonderful! Hey, um...um...crap," she pauses, struggling to remember her partner's name. "Jason? No, Johnathan...No, Jared! There, that's it! Can you get me another drink, Jared? Please?" She bats her long eyelashes and twirls her flaming red hair. The man, Jared apparently, nods curtly and brushes past her, his hands leaving her hips. I look longingly at my table and begin to walk towards it once more but she grabs my elbow.

"Hermione, I can't believe it's you! How've you been? _Where _have you been? Ron and Harry. and well, _everyone_ has been asking about you!" She's talking really fast and my sobriety is really obvious compared to her tipsy state. I stand there for a moment, staring at her and deciding whether or not to actually converse. If I just walked away I doubt it would really matter to her; I have been away from my friends long enough for them to stop caring. Six months is a long time without contact.

_And it was his idea to leave them. _

"Hello, Ginny," some part of me says. "I am actually not in the mood to talk, I've had a rough day, you see. How about we talk later, 'kay?" I'm not sure who is speaking but I let the words pour out of my mouth and then turn away as if nothing had happened. She doesn't attempt to stop me and I walk to my table, sit down and relish what had just occurred.

I sit there for a long time before actually ordering anything or even taking my coat and scarf off. I just sit, the ache in my chest building up, then subsiding, building up, then subsiding. Sometimes I like the feeling, it reminds me of the sea ebbing at the shore. I finally remove the offending articles of clothing I have on, shove them on to the chair next to me, and reach for the menu of typical bar food on the table. This is entirely for show as I won't order anything other than my drinks, but it makes me feel somewhat normal.

A breeze brushes past me and I turn to see the back door opened. _Odd_. All I see is the door, not the person who has opened the fixture.

"- and then the bint slapped me! I swear-" I hear a deep voice say from the other side. _No._ The voice in my head is shrill and close to tears. _Why is he here, in **my** place_! My head snaps in the opposite direction and I pray to Gods I don't believe in that he doesn't recognize me. The menu goes up in hope of more cover.

" Did you fire her?" The companion questions, I do not recognize the voice.

" Of course!" The sound of his laugh vibrates through me and the swelling in my chest increases catastrophically. His laugh stops abruptly. "Mason, get us a table will you? There's something I need to take care of." The air shifts behind me and I feel the tail of his coat hits my arm as he walks past me. My breath escapes my lungs and I relax but only for a moment. I gather my things and race out the back door. The snow is falling heavier than before but I rush to distance myself from the pub, relief, and respiratory arrest.

I apparate home as soon as I am out of the public view, shove my key into the lock, slam the door and cry. Tears flee from my eyes, my chest heaves with sobs, and my hands dress themselves with my hair. I hate this.


	2. Home

A/N: Little plot bunny that popped into my mind in December but I just got around to writing it. I have many ideas for where this can go but as for now it is all up in the air. Special thanks to **Gryffindor'sSlytherinPrincess** for being my makeshift beta (even if I don't take all of her suggestions) and bestest best friend! Please review, without criticism and advice nothing gets accomplished...

* * *

Sitting on the ground, my back against the wooden door. I continue to cry until the tears just can't fall anymore, until my eyes ache from the loss of fluid, until the pain in my head is worse then the one in my chest. Thats when I pick my self up and start to pretend that nothing is wrong, that I haven't been avoiding real life for longer than I will to remember.

My flat is cold. I haven't occupied it in days due to work and the pub, the hearth will be difficult to rekindle. I notice that case papers dress the kitchen table and that there's a pile of letters in a bin by the floo, someone's been here and I should be worried but all I can think about is his voice. Gods his voice... _Hermione, no_. I brace my self against a table and stand, my head throbbing. A pop resonates through the house. I don't look into it. The telephone rings off in the distance, after four rings the machine will pick it up. I don't want to talk. The first ring seems to take hours but eventually it does end. _ Three_. The second seems even louder than the first. _Two_.

"Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?" A masculine voice invades my ears and reality kicks in. _Concentrate Hermione, do you know that voice? Where's your wand? Why would they be here?_ Everything seems to be flying by so fast and the bleak colors of the room are morphing together. I know I'll be unconscious in a few seconds due to the sudden rush of epinephrine. Damn.

"Granger? Oh shit! Granger!" The voice says as my vision goes blank. "I'll call you back Theo."

............................................................................................................................................................................

"Hermione wake up please. Please wake up." Now a feminine voice is intruding, I must be in hell. I feel something grazing my hand, a finger perhaps. "Please." A tiny sob escapes the girl and I have the heart to open my eyes. Luna. Sweet, forgiving, eccentric Luna. I'm just glad it isn't Ginny.

"You can stop crying now, I'm awake." I say, whether or not it came out harshly doesn't matter at this point.

"Oh thank you!" She whispers excitedly, making a funny symbol with her hands. "Hermione, I'm so happy you're alright! You were attacked by Fisslewiggys. I've been praying to their nemesis, the Qatinyares, for your return to our world." She explains all this as she hugs me and I awkwardly set my hands on her shoulders in response. Maybe it would have been better if it had been Ginny.

"Thanks Luna, I'm not entirely sure what either of those things are but thanks." I smile for the first time in days, although its fake, and her eyes sparkle.

"Do you remember what happened?" Luna asks, wiping her remaining tears from her face. _Should I lie?_

"I blacked out. Happens pretty often really." I avoid eye contact as I talk, looking around the room. St. Mungos. Glorious. "How did I get here?" I ask.

"That would be me." The voice from, was it last night?, is back and I turn to see Blaise Zabini sitting in an armchair. "Hi Granger." Great.

"Blaise." I acknowledge him and he stands. "Why were you in my flat?" I inquire.

"I don't think you should tell her just yet, might stress her out." Luna added as she joined the Slytherin, lacing her hand with his. _So that's why she's here_. A way of disappointment washes over me for a second but it is soon repressed like every other feeling. A shot of Gin sounds lovely.


End file.
